


She's Like A Song

by bleumysti



Category: Roswell New Mexico (TV 2019)
Genre: Banter, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Friendship/Love, Pre-Relationship, Soulmates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-13
Updated: 2019-04-13
Packaged: 2020-01-12 21:29:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,035
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18454976
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bleumysti/pseuds/bleumysti
Summary: One day he decided maybe without even thinking about it that he was going to look out for Maria DeLuca, and he never stopped.... glimpses into the special relationship between Michael and Maria over the years and how Michael became her protector always.





	She's Like A Song

## She's Like a Song

 ** _Fandom_** : Roswell, New Mexico 

 _ **Pairing**_ : Michael/ Maria 

As Posted on Tumblr.

 ** _Inspo_** : One day he decided maybe without even thinking about it that he was going to look out for Maria DeLuca, and he never stopped.

 ** _A/N_** : _Borrowed a bit from my Barter and Banter buddies and fellow members of the Maria Defense Squad. It's a freestyle, and I'm beyond rusty, but here's to you, you know who you are. :) Errors all my own._

_i._

He never told anyone before, but the Wild Pony was like his home. A teenager had no business in a bar, but Mimi DeLuca orchestrated a soup kitchen for the homeless, and while he had a pallet on the floor at his latest foster home, he may as well have been homeless.

They appreciated the paycheck, and he could put up with the less than ideal situation because it brought him home to Max and Isobel. Most days, his foster parents didn't pay him attention at all and being invisible was better than being a punching bag.

But Max and Isobel had a comfortable home with doting parents, and he was just the rabble-rousing kid from the wrong side of the tracks they weren't supposed to spend time around.

On his worse nights, he ventured to the Wild Pony. Mimi DeLuca once told him he had inexplicable energy, and it scared him shitless, but then she slid a sandwich across the counter and tousled his hair with a wink, and he felt comfortable there ever since.

She called him for maintenance help sometimes because she knew he was good with his hands, and on nights when his foster father drank too much, she put a cot up in the back room of the Pony, but more importantly, she never asked questions. She just knew. Maybe she was psychic after all.

He didn't mind this exchange between them until one day Maria DeLuca caught him in the back room. She was all long legs and smiles, and he admired how carefree she was, and how she followed the beat of her own drum.

He didn't see her often in school; she hung out with those Ortecho girls, and he always wondered how someone so filled with light could be friends with someone like Rosa who carried so much darkness, but Max and Isobel were his friends, so who was he to judge?

She didn't judge him. The surprise on her face when she caught him in that backroom sleeping on a dusty floor vanished quicker than it came, but unlike everyone else in his life, it wasn't replaced with pity.

Instead, she said, "If you're going to sleep on our floor, Guer, the least you can do is sweep it." She tossed him a broom he caught reflexively, and she barked out an order about grabbing the box of new product and skipped right back out the door no questions asked.

"When you're done, I need help with calculus, too." Of course, she knew he was a closet nerd, and she would be the type to use it to her advantage.

Maria DeLuca wasn't judgmental.

_ii._

He shouldn't have been there.

Max said they should've stayed away, but Rosa was a scrub like him, and he felt a kinship with her.

He knew what it was like to be misunderstood. He didn't sleep much anymore. The images of the car burning danced across his eyelids every time he closed his eyes, and he knew the others struggled with what they did too, but his siblings refused to talk about it.

Isobel killed a girl. She killed multiple girls, and Rosa took the blame. It isn't right, and he knows that, but he didn't anticipate this.

Rosa's funeral was the day he saw a spark go out in DeLuca. She stood there, holding up a sobbing Arturo because no one was left to do it anymore.

Rosa was dead, and thanks to him and Isobel, Liz was gone. She took off, and Arturo couldn't make sense of losing two daughters at the same time, but Maria was still there.

Maria was always there. The angry shouts from the crowd Valenti held back grew louder while the priest said his prayer.

He couldn't believe the racist slurs being spewed by the people in their small town at a grieving father. Arturo crumbled under the weight of each indictment, but small but strong Maria held him up.

He watched as the tears spilled down her face, and her mother rubbed her back, and the guilt was too much. He never thought he'd see the day Maria lost some of her spark, and he played a role in that.

_iii._

It was the least he could do.

Humans were pretty shitty, at least most of the ones he encountered. He flexed his hand at the thought, but the DeLucas were always kind to him.

When he saw Mimi wandering the streets not far from the junkyard, he thought she was just taking a walk, but something about her gait was off.

He smiled at her as she rambled about Will Smith and, was that Independence Day she was talking about?

At some point, within a few years since high school, Maria took over the bar, but he never knew why. It never made sense.

He knew he had a reputation for being an asshole, but he always paid attention. Maria DeLuca had plans. She dreamed of traveling the world and going on adventures. She wanted to hit the open road and book gigs and sing to her heart's content.

"It's a big ole world out there, and I want a piece of it," she said once at The Crashdown while giggling over a milkshake. She had an infectious laugh, the type that reeled you in and made you shut out any and every noise but the one she was making.

The world stopped when Maria laughed. She didn't laugh much anymore.

She did cry out when he and Mimi finally strolled back to the Wild Pony. Maria jogged up to them her forehead knit in concern, and he could hear the tears in the rasp of her voice.

"Mimi," she choked out before getting ahold of herself. "Mama, you scared me. "

"I just went for a walk, honey," Mimi cupped the side of Maria's face as the glow of the neon Wild Pony sign caught her eye, and she wandered into the bar.

Maria exhaled in disbelief. It took her a moment to bring her eyes to meet his, and she looked ... tired. Her eyes were red from the tears she was sniffing away and trying to suppress, and she hugged herself as if to keep herself together.

She opened her mouth to say something, but it was like a rush of emotion had overtaken her and rendered her speechless.

He gave her an out. "Sorry, we're late. We got a little carried away, I'm a hit with the Cougars, you know?"

She released a relieved chuckle, and for a moment, that missing spark was back and alive. "If you ever lump my mother with those floozies you take home again I'll have your balls."

"Is that a promise?" He teased. Her frown lines disappeared, and for a moment, she was the girl with the infectious laugh without a care in the world.

"Cute. I can assure you, Guerin, when I have 'em it's because they will no longer be attached to the likes of you.

She pats her back pocket where she sometimes kept her pocket knife, and he threw his hands up in surrender. He walked backward, their teasing drawing a half smirk and escapism he hadn't felt all day.

"You just called me cute though, DeLuca. I'm holding you to that." He turns to head home, his hands stuffed deep in his pockets as a chill settles in.

It's not chilly out, but suddenly the thought of going home alone makes him feel cold.

"Hey Guerin," her voice is quieter and more serious than he's used to. He turns to study her face. She looks haunted again, resigned, and so tired.

He doesn't know the particulars of what is going on with Mimi DeLuca, but he knows she's been declining for a while. Whatever it is, it has led to Maria taking over.

He can smell the wanderlust on her and see the longing for greater things that aren't this in her eyes. In many ways, she is stuck like he is. This town is too small for larger than life DeLuca, but her heart is too big for her to leave.

Rosa is gone, Liz left, and he's long since drowned his sorrows over Alex Manes heading to war. They left her alone, and now it seems Mimi is leaving her too.

"Thank you," she said quietly -- sincerely.

He nodded, tipping his hat and turned away.

Maria Deluca was alone, and so was he.

_iv._

"Dammit!" She screamed, hitting the steering wheel repeatedly. She turned the key, and her car made ungodly noises.

"Whoa, whoa, you're going to flood it." He was groggy from passing out in the back of his truck behind the Wild Pony, but Maria destroying her car was enough to snap him out of his buzzed sleep.

"What's a pretty girl like you doing at a place like this," he drawled. He was met with a classic Maria glare that could disintegrate his boxers if he were wearing any. "I was talking about the car."

"I thought I kicked you out hours ago when you refused to pay your tab?"

"Most people call the law when that happens."

"Your best friend is the law."

"I don't have a best friend," he bristled at the mention of Max. They hadn't been friends for years.

"Gee, this is my surprised face," she deadpanned. She went to turn the key again, and he placed his hand over hers to stop her. She sighed, frustrated but relented.

"Looks like all your other faces, DeLuca." He signaled for her to pop the hood, and he took a gander. He could haul the thing to work in the morning, but there was nothing he could do tonight.

"It's going to need some work, DeLuca."

"Shit," her head fell back onto the headrest, and she closed her eyes. It was only then he noticed how worn down she was.

When he thought about it, Maria had been putting in double shifts all week while looking for a couple of new staff members. She had been at the Pony since it open to close, and it had to be at least 2 A.M.

"I don't have the money," she said begrudgingly. He figured it was pure exhaustion that led her to that admission.

"Oh, but when I say that, I get kicked out of the bar," he teased. His voice went up a few notches as he mimicked her. "Cough it up or get the hell out, Guerin. Stopping bar fights isn't compensation, Guerin. I will send people after you next time, Guerin. Don't come back until your tab is paid off, Guerin."

He was pretty sure his life should've flashed before his eyes based on the killer look she gave him. "I'll fix your car if you clear my tab."

"I'm not one to turn away a sucker, but I'm pretty sure car repairs exceed your bar tab, if only by a few pennies."

He made a face like a child and earned a bemused snort.

"You say that like I won't be back to drink up my share tomorrow." He patted the car and tilted his head towards his own beater. "Let me take you home."

Shockingly, she didn't put up a fight, and she staggered towards his old piece of junk and slid into the passenger seat. "You're gonna fix my baby when yours looks like crap. Rich."

He was about to respond, but her soft snores stopped him dead in his tracks. Seconds felt like hours as he watched her sleep. It was the most relaxed she looked in some time.

He hopped in and cruised towards her part of town listening to her soft exhalations. He shoved her gently, or so he thought when they pulled up to her house. Her head tapped lightly against the window.

"Asshole," she grumbled as she hopped out the truck, slammed the door, and stalked towards her door.

"Fine. Fix my shit, and I'll clear your tab. And obviously, you're picking me up at 10 A.M. Bring coffee."

"Yes ma'am," he snarked, beaming when she flipped him the bird without bothering to look back at him.

He went to bed smelling like Maria's sweet scent, which faded away by the next morning. There was a sense of relief when he slid into his truck hours later and her sweet musk still clung to the seats.

There was something comforting about it. It reminded him of Maria, and Mimi and home cooked meals in the back of the Pony when he didn't want schoolmates to catch him breaking bread with the homeless.

It reminded him of what home should feel like.

_v._

"It took you long enough," he huffed. He looked up from the magazine he was reading as Maria flounced towards him with the familiar clack of her red cowgirl boots as she headed towards his truck.

"Move over, loser." She raised a brow at him as she held the door open to his truck.

"I know they tend to look identical, but it's my car, DeLuca," even he couldn't sell that lie. For one, he managed to keep hers in better condition than his own, and the difference is noticeable, which is how he ended up carting her around town when her baby got a tune-up.

Maria DeLuca owned his ass. He didn't know how to describe the hold she had on him, but there definitely was one. It's been there since they were teens. She had a spirit he recognized whenever he looked in the mirror, and unlike most people in town, she saw him, like really saw him.

Maria DeLuca was a survivor through and through, and he respected that.

"My. Truck." He enunciated as if she didn't hear him. She glared at him, and he relented. He always did.

"Your hair looks nice," he said sincerely while flashing her his shit eating grin.

"It looks the same," she shot back as she slid into the driver seat.

"Yeah, nice." He said it for the sole purpose of watching the soft flush in her cheeks, and he was rewarded with it.

"I can give you some pointers then, Guer," she countered staring pointedly at his mop of curls he admittedly never bothered doing shit with, and she knew it. She teased him about it all the time.

He shook his head. "Still can't accept a compliment graciously, huh?"

"Nope," she said popping the 'p' as she started the engine.

The town whirled past them as they drove in silence. He reached for the radio knob, and she smacked his hand away.

"It's MY truck DeLuca," he whined not the least bit as put out as he sounded.

She slid her shades on and smirked. She fiddled with the knob before music blared. Without seconds to waste, she sang along.

Maria could sing along to any song on the radio. She was some freak of nature who knew them all, genre be damned, and she sang every last one. He secretly loved it.

She crooned some ballad, and his hands twitched. Some days his longing to strum strings between his fingers was too much to bear. He wished he could still play. They could make beautiful music together.

She shot him a sly look and threw her head back laughing that laugh that was its own harmony, and he smirked. Yeah, they would make beautiful music together.

_vi._

He wiped his brow as he hauled the last of the boxes into the shed and glared at a relaxed, fresh and clean Maria as she bound down the stairs of her porch.

"You bailed halfway through for a shower and left me with the heavy stuff?" He collapsed on her porch and glared up at her.

"No, 'thanks, Guerin. You didn't have to stop what you were doing and help me with spring cleaning bullshit, Guerin. You're the best, Guerin." He bobbed his head along while he mimicked her.

"Well, I grabbed you these, but if you would prefer a verbal thanks, I can just keep 'em to myself." She knew she had him as she dangled a six pack of the coldest beer he had ever seen, or at least the coldest beer he had craved in the past four hours of hard labor.

He snagged two beers out before she could yank them away and popped the lid to one guzzling it to completion by the time she plopped down next to him.

She scoffed as locks of unruly curls fell into his eyes and obscured his vision.

"You know it only costs maybe 20 bucks tops for a haircut, right?"

He shrugged noncommittally not paying her mind when she disappeared into the house again. He stared into the desert finding comfort in the feel of the condensation from the beer cool against his fingers.

The door swung shut, and he smelled her and felt her before he could see her. He inhaled deep and long, and exhaled again, not saying anything when she came up close behind him.

"Move down," she ordered.

Maria liked to think she was unpredictable, but he knew her better than she thought. He caught the glint of the scissors as she set them next to her, and he scooted down a step until he was between her legs.

"Ah, my favorite position. I can show you why if you want." He flinched even though he knew the punch was coming and choked back a laugh.

His laughter stopped when she ran her hands through his curls carding her fingers through as a way of detangling it.

It was her time to laugh softly. She knew she shut him up for a good minute and relished it, but he was too relaxed to care. He was bone weary tired to the point of his limbs feeling like jello so he couldn't help himself from sinking into her. If she minded, she didn't say anything.

He wanted to make a wisecrack about her being anywhere near his head with scissors, but he was too comfortable with their silence.

He rested his head lightly on her lap, and she absentmindedly scratched his scalp as she snipped.

The sun was setting, and the desert sky was a sunburst of oranges and pinks, and he wondered if there were sunsets so beautiful at home.

Maria hummed quietly as snippets of hair fell around him, and the way she dragged her nails softly along his scalp made his eyes flutter closed, and he thought, he never had this before.

_vii._

He paces next to her unconscious form, and part of him wants to join the fight and track who's responsible, but part of him can't bring himself to leave her side even if he wanted.

He leans in close to her face and notes her chest rises and falls, and it's the only thing putting him at ease.

Her stillness is unsettling. She's so full of life -- a force of nature that can't be tamed and one that gets under your skin and electrifies your cells. She's -- she's magic, and he's all nerves and boundless energy that can't be soothed.

Except ... he lifts her gently and hops on the table resting her head in his lap, and even unconscious Maria puts him at ease. She always does.

It took him years to realize that part of the gravitational pull he has towards her is due to her being a constant in his life. She's consistent and normal, and she makes him feel normal, and she helps him escape out of his head if only for their moments.

It's why he wouldn't allow Max to disparage her in such a way. His forearm still aches from shoving his brother against a wall, and he reflexively clenches his fists.

It had nothing to do with his night spent with Maria and more to do with his years spent with her. She was his constant, his sanctuary, his normalcy, his friend, and not even Max could take that away from him.

He knows her intimately and biblically, and they could take everything away from him, his home, his identity, his opportunity for family, but not the small, most consistent form of solace he has.

He brushes water against her lips and tries to keep her hydrated. He strokes her hair the way she does when she cuts his hair and breathes in that soft scent that's all Maria.

The silence between them isn't their comfortable kind. Sure, he hears the buzz from the gala, but he wants to fill the room with something suitable for them.

They banter. They barter. It's their thing, and sometimes, so is music. So he finds himself humming a little diddly she sang once while he strokes her hair.

When she stirs, he exhales a sigh of relief and a weight is lifted from him. He tries to comfort her and tells her to take it easy, and he doesn't miss the softness in his voice.

The truth is, he's scared of losing her. He didn't realize how much he relied on the Wild Pony or her to fill some void he has until she spent days avoiding him.

When he bumped into her at the Crashdown, he saw that familiar haunted look in her eyes, and it hurt him that he once again contributed to her carrying an unbearable load.

He likes to think over the years he did his part to relieve her of burdens, not contribute to them, so when he told her he was to blame and she was not, he meant every word.

Her eyes flutter open slowly, and he strokes her hair and asks her if she wants more water.

"You have to stop showing up like this for me, Guerin."

He knows she's still groggy from the drugs, and his jaw clenches thinking about how she was used.

He's absentmindedly scratching her scalp as he tries to say the right thing. He hesitates before he offers to get Liz and leave, but he doesn't really want to. He'll leave if it's what she wants though because Maria always gets her way with him.

"That's the problem," she says her voice but a whisper. "I never do."

And he feels like he was punched in the gut. Everything is messy now, and he's partly to blame for that.

He understands the sentiment well, though. And he knows what that admission cost her, and it's possible she won't remember she said it at all, and it's what he hopes if only to spare her any more pain.

There's something about Maria DeLuca that brings him back time and again. She never wants him to leave, and he always wants to stay.

He made peace with the fact that he stopped coming to the Wild Pony for the booze years ago. He came for the company.

Their relationship was easy and comforting, and he could disappear into Maria DeLuca the way he used to disappear into music because Maria was like a song that never ended.

A tear slips down her cheek at her admission, and it takes everything in him not to wipe it away, cup her face, press his lips in her hair and absorb her pain and hurt.

He's had decades of practice shouldering hurt and pain. He can handle it.

Somewhere along the way, he made it his personal mission to keep Maria's spark alive. He likes to think it was for her, but he knows it's purely selfish.

One day, he decided maybe without even thinking about it, that he was going to look out for Maria DeLuca, and he never stopped.

                                 ** _Fin_**


End file.
